


Home and Away

by chelseagirl



Series: Alias Investigations [2]
Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gen, Investigations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 20:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/pseuds/chelseagirl
Summary: Just a few glimpses into Curry's and Heyes's lives on the road with Heyes and Curry Security Services, and at home.





	Home and Away

**Author's Note:**

> This one begins with a "safegasm" and continues with a lighthearted glimpse into the guys' domestic lives. Just in case you were wondering how everything shook out in the transition from the Ella series to the Alias Investigations series . . . 
> 
> The next few stories in this series after this will center on investigations, one of them conducted by the inimitable Kyle Murtry, himself.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry stood in the office of the Gibsonville Bank. It was midday, and they were meeting with the bankers, a far cry from the way things had been in their heyday, as the two most successful outlaws the West had ever known.

"You see," Heyes was explaining, "your safe is outdated. All right, I admit I'm the best, but I haven't been keeping up with the game, these past few years, and I can open it real easy. Now, most of the folks who might break in here aren't gonna be as good as me, but with a safe this old, there're gonna be folks who've caught up."

"So you're saying we ought to replace the safe?" The speaker was a grey-haired man, stout and choleric-looking. "Do you have any idea how much that would cost us?"

"Now, now, Thomas," said the somewhat younger man who sat behind the desk. "After all, we called them in to make suggestions about our security. I think we owe it to them and to ourselves to hear them out."

"I could give you a demonstration," said Heyes.

"Fair enough," said the man behind the desk, who despite his relative youth, was the senior partner in this establishment. "You'll break into the safe? How about starting . . . now." He looked at his pocket watch. "One thirty-seven, you begin."

Heyes went over to the safe and sank down to his knees. It was an older model Brooker, not one of the ones that had ever stumped him. It had been a fine safe in its day, but its day was long past. Still, it felt good to be cracking a safe again, the tumblers sliding under his sensitive touch while he crouched with his ear to the door, all his senses attuned to the sounds, the slightest movements, on the other side of that heavy iron door.

A little bit more to the right, a little more -- no good. Too far, too fast. He was getting a little out of practice, and just maybe his senses were slightly less keen with the years. He ought to get one of those listening tubes like that fake doc had that winter in the cabin. That'd be real helpful in breaking open a safe.

Not that it came up very often anymore.

But then he felt one of the tumblers slide again, and another, and yet another, and it was like he was taken out of himself and into another place, where his senses were at their keenest and there was nothing outside of himself and this test of his agility and his intelligence. It was a battle, a contest of wills between himself and a bunch of clever Eastern lock designers. A battle that he was sure to win.

He was breathing deeply, his eyes dilating, and the final tumbler fell into place and . . . 

Not for the first time, he recognized what the feeling was akin to. And he was never going to tell his wife that. Not ever.

Afterwards, the Kid had turned to him, serious. "Miss it sometimes, don't you?"

He just smiled. "Guess I always will, a little. More’n a little. But not enough to give up what we’ve got now."

*****

The Kid snoozed on the train all the way back to Blue Sky, while Heyes read. It was a book he’d bought as a gift for Ella, but he reasoned that she wouldn’t be mad if he read it first; she’d enjoy talking about it with him. It was a history in multiple volumes, about ancient Rome, and it was interesting, even if the names got more than a little confusing. The Kid's head drooped towards his partner's shoulder, and Heyes himself started to doze.

"Sandy," Curry mumbled into Heyes' ear. "I love you so much, honey."

Heyes shook his head, awake now. All right, the Kid was still fairly new at this being married thing, but did he have to be so very . . . married? He missed Ella when he was away, but he didn't go on and on about it, even if the Kid claimed that he used to, back at the beginning. Well, that was different – they were still drifting around figuring things out for their post-amnesty life, in those days, and they were gone for longer stretches of time, often months. Now, with the security consulting firm, as well as the ever-improving rail service, they were rarely gone more than a week or two together, although this particular trip had run nearly three.

Earlier in the year, the former outlaws had relocated to Blue Sky, Montana, which was further out of the way than Denver, but had its own advantages. The fact that Sandy was now much nearer to her father’s tribal lands, that Ella was able to rejoin her former law practice, and that somehow they’d never quite gotten around to selling the house, anyway, had a great deal to do with their decision. Happy wives led to happy lives, as someone or other had told them, although not either wife, who would have been horrified at the trite nature of the saying. But they also found themselves relaxing in little Blue Sky in a way they didn’t quite do elsewhere. It had begun to feel like home. Home was still a concept they were getting used to, one that Heyes was half-surprised to find that he liked well enough. As for the Kid, Heyes had never seen him happier.

When they got off the train, Heyes consulted his pocket watch. "Hey, Kid. Wanna stop at the saloon and grab a beer? Sandy's gonna be in the middle of making dinner, anyway, and Ella’s likely to still be at her office."

The Kid shook his head. "Nah. I want to check in with my wife. Then maybe we can go for a drink."

_Like that will happen_ , Heyes thought. _One look at her and all thoughts of anything else will go flying right out of his head_.

Curry insisted that they stop at Mr. Patterson’s greenhouse, so that he could pick up some flowers for Sandy. This was in addition to the bracelet and the shawl he’d bought her during the course of the trip. Heyes stood there uncomfortably, wondering if he should buy flowers for Ella, too. It wasn't like she'd even really notice. She'd just thank him and give him a quick peck on the cheek, and then go on with whatever they were talking about. This book about Rome declining and falling, that was the kind of thing Ella really liked. He’d remembered her mentioning it, and when he saw it in the front window of a Denver bookshop, couldn’t resist picking it up for her.

When they got to the house, Heyes allowed his partner to go in first, so as not to spoil his reunion. Then he took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, where the Kid was gallantly presenting the colorful bouquet to Sandy. 

He watched his partner closely. Jed and Sandy had been married for a bit over a year, and she was heavily with child. She was one of those women who glowed during pregnancy -- even in her shapeless dresses, she was radiantly beautiful. Ella had been ill and tired most of the time when she was expecting. She definitely hadn't glowed. If anything, her normally fair complexion had turned a little gray.

He stood there unobserved as they spoke softly together, the Kid chuckling and Sandy's gentle laugh chiming in from time to time. His golden curls bent close to her shiny black hair, which she confined loosely, but never wore up except on the most formal occasions. 

"Telling her about those boys in Laramie, the other night?" he asked.

The pair turned around, as surprised to see him as if they'd expected he was halfway to Chicago by now. "Oh, Heyes. No, we were talkin' about . . . can't recall just what. Dinner?"

"Well, don't mind me. Just go back to what you were doing. I'll take a walk and see if I can find Ella at the office. Dinner in an hour?"

"About that," said Sandy, sweetly. "Chicken and dumplings."

"My favorite," said the Kid, and they were off in their own little world again. Everything Sandy cooked was his favorite. Heyes strongly suspected they didn't even notice when he left.

*****

He found Ella lost in thought, poring over a stack of legal documents, and she didn’t look up when the office door opened and closed again. Hannibal Heyes was not used to not being noticed, but today it seemed to be happening everywhere. Just when he was beginning to lose patience, she seemed to realize that someone was standing there. Her expression changed as she registered who it was – she was clearly delighted to see him, though he could tell her mind was mostly still somewhere else entirely.

“It’s today you were coming home?” she asked. “I thought it was tomorrow, or possibly Thursday. I’m sorry – I’ve been working on the Gunderson case, and my mind’s all full of potential property interests and encumbrances.”

“Right on schedule; train was even on time.” He gave her a look that showed exactly how unimpressed he was with her not knowing that. “Not counting the days until you saw me again, then?”

“I was . . . but I seem to have lost track. I’ve been keeping myself busy. Jeremy just took Melanie and the children to San Francisco for couple of weeks, so I’m holding things down around here.”

They stood, awkwardly, for a few moments. Then, he could tell clearly as if she’d announced it, she put Gunderson firmly out of her mind, and rose from her desk, closing up the distance between them. “That’s more like it,” he said, as she slid her arms around his neck.

When they pulled apart again, they just looked at each other for a moment. She looked like she always did – a pretty, tallish, fair-haired woman of about his own age. Something about the expression in her dark blue eyes always gave him the sense that part of her was right there with him, and another part of her was working through some puzzle or problem at the same time. But he’d always rather liked that about her, as he took pride in doing something similar himself.

He’d taken his hat off, when he entered the office, and his hair had fallen forward. She put her hand up to brush it back, with a fond gesture. “You look tired. Trip went okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, and took a volume from inside his jacket pocket. “Got you this. Hope you don’t mind that I started it.”

” _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ ,” she said, delightedly. “You remembered how much I’ve been wanting to read this.”

“When I think of all the women I could have ended up with who’d have been happy with a hair ribbon or a piece of jewelry,” he mock-complained. “Instead, I wind up with you – much harder to please. There’s four more volumes in the set, by the way. I’ll be finished with this one in a day or two.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?” She gathered up a few things, and took it.

”I’m not quite sure how to say this,” she began, and then went ahead and said it. “If you’re going to put Kyle in charge of your business when you’re on the road, you probably should keep in mind that he can’t spell, isn’t very good at arithmetic, and also I think he might be scaring off a few of your potential clients.”

”How’d he do with setting up the office? We sent him back from Laramie with a pretty clear set of instructions.”

She made a face. “Jeremy pretty much had to walk him through it all. As in, he took care of everything while Kyle made admiring, if ungrammatical, remarks.”

Heyes sighed. “If you think about how long it took the Kid and me to figure out what to do with our lives after the amnesty . . . Well, even us, and we’re both good at a lot of things. Kyle’s not really very good at all that much. But we kinda feel like we oughta look after him, since he decided to follow our example and get straight with the law.”

”Well, he’s gotten quite attached to Jeremy. Kept comparing him with someone called . . . Barley? Or Rye? Some kind of grain, anyway.”

”That’d be Wheat. Wheat Carlson from the Devil’s Hole Gang. Took over as leader, after I left.”

”I think it’s nice you and Jed have taken Kyle under your respective wings. And I’ve grown rather fond of him. Just . . . maybe running your office isn’t quite right for him. Anyway, since you take him on the road with you not infrequently, you might want to hire someone who’d be there all the time?”

He promised to discuss it with the Kid, but something else was on his mind. “Speaking of which . . . it just ain't natural for two people to like each other that much.”

She nodded. “Jed and Sandy? They’re certainly still in the honeymoon phase, and it’s probably a little unusual that it's been going on for well over a year. But think of how long they had to wait to be together.” Kid Curry, who’d broken hearts and romanced young ladies all over the West, had loved Ella’s former ward for years, so silently and steadfastly that not even his partner had realized it for a long while. He’d waited patiently, as she learned to trust again, after her disastrous first marriage, and the unspeakable things her kidnappers had done to her. Patiently, and patience was not something the Kid was known for.

"You and me," Heyes continued, "we didn't change a whole lot when we got married. I mean, circumstances changed, but we didn't. We still talk about the same things, fight about the same things. I don't think there's a thing in the world that they disagree on. They weren't so bad before they got married, were they?"

“They’re still new. I can’t imagine there aren’t going to be some differences of opinion between them. Eventually. Maybe.” She paused, changing trains of thought. "Anyway, I was thinking about causation in the Perry suit, and I was thinking maybe you wouldn't mind going over what I've mapped out. You could let me know if there are any obvious holes in my re-creation of the scenario?"

His eyes lit up. He loved helping her with things like that. He’d been a master of strategy with the Devil’s Hole Gang, and some of Ella’s cases weren’t all that different. Often he could see things that she hadn't, coming to the situations with fresh eyes, and getting, as he said pointedly, to skip all the boring parts. Also, she had a tendency to express her gratitude for his assistance in ways he found thoroughly enjoyable. "Right after dinner. We're having chicken and dumplings. Apparently that's the Kid's favorite."

"I thought steak and potatoes was his favorite."

"Whatever she's cookin' is his favorite."

"Oh." She frowned. “Guess that makes planning dinner fairly easy, then.”

Now he changed the subject. "So let me tell you about what happened in Laramie, just before we sent Kyle home. See, there were these two boys that broke into the bank. They couldn't have been a day over eighteen. Well . . ."

Soon they were laughing together, all the way home.

*****

After dinner, the Kid and Sandy excused themselves to sit on the porch swing outside and enjoy the evening breeze. A hour or so later, as they walked back into the house, having discussed baby names and other matters of great interest to themselves, they found the front parlor in considerable disarray.

There was a chair directly in their path, and the Kid went to move it, only to hear Ella cry, "Could you hold on a minute? That's Mister Perry's wagon." As they stood there longer, they realized that much of the parlor furniture had been rearranged.

Heyes popped up from behind the settee. "Kid, would you mind taking that little table over there? Okay, that makes you the Harris and Humboldt wagon. Sandy . . . um, never mind. You can sit down over there."

He picked up a chair himself, Ella picked up the one blocking the door, and the Kid obligingly lifted the small table. "Okay, so all the witnesses agreed that Perry's wagon was traveling just a little bit faster than the truck, and Missus Simpson's cart, right? Ella, you walk just a little bit faster than the Kid and me."

They all proceeded forward until the pieces of furniture they were carrying lightly bumped each other. "Do you see?" asked Heyes, triumphantly. "There's no way Missus Simpson's cart had anything to do with it."

"Wonderful!" said Ella, returning her chair to its original spot. "Absolutely perfect. Thanks, Jed,” she acknowledged Curry for his part. “So, let's run through it with the creamer and the sugar bowl one more time." And she and Heyes wandered off to the dining room, without having replaced most of the parlor furniture.

"Do you ever wonder about those two?" Kid Curry asked his wife.

”If they ever _stop_ doing things like that, then we might have reason to be concerned,” said Sandy, calmly.

”S’pose you’re right,” said the Kid, and shrugged. He’d always been a little afraid that life after the amnesty might be unbearably dull, after the excitement of the outlaw trail. But as it turned out, he’d have to say that things were never, ever boring, not at work and most certainly not at home.


End file.
